


NXT WF Title Holders

by NXTDNDIMHO



Series: NXTDNDIMHO [8]
Category: NXT Wrestling Fan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23249305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NXTDNDIMHO/pseuds/NXTDNDIMHO
Summary: NXT Wrestling Fan is a podcast about falling in love with wrestling. It follows NXT starting 22 May 2013. It's a good show made by lovely people.Patrons are assigned or create wrestling persona. Patrons of a higher tier just might one day hold the NXT WF Title Belt. This is the thing I do now. It is my singular obsession.This work is ongoing and will be updated as new claimants hold the belt.
Series: NXTDNDIMHO [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627138
Kudos: 1





	1. KNEEL BEFORE ME

Wreathed in flames, belted, crowned,  
My hammer drives you to the ground.  
Crush you under booted heel,   
Bow before me, all shall KNEEL.

KNEEL

His blood is of fire and conquest. Descendant from the infernal lineage of Zariel, once of Mt. Celeste and since fallen to her lust for war and ascendant to Lordship of Avernus, the First of the Nine Hells, after her subjugation of Tiamat, the Five-Headed Queen of Evil Dragons. His thrones and titles need not be enumerated as he wears their grandeur in his trunks, wields their might through the strength of his arm, speaks their power in his name: KNEEL.  
The Paladin are the Might of the Divine, yet KNEEL wears the Crusader's Mantel while pledging to no god except himself. He has sworn his Oath of Conquest on no name but his own. Law and prophecy fall before him.

He is law is written upon his butt.  
KNEEL

Race: Tieflings are descendant from fiends(Fiends being the umbrella term for both Devils and Demons, which are different, and also including some other, less Judeo-Christian inflected but still Evil figures). Mordenkainen's Tome of Foes has blocks for Tieflings whose lineage traces back to each of the Nine Hells, which is all very complicated and makes for some fun wiki-spelunking if you've got a free afternoon. The main reason I felt comfortable making this character a race that is at best marginalized and at worst villianized is that part of the fun of KNEEL as a character is that he is basically Lawful Evil taken to an 11, enforcing his domination not with any sort of clever tricks, but by sheer and obvious force.

Ability Scores and Proficiencies: Strength and Charisma were my priorities for this character, both because they make for a good Paladin and because they reenforce the gimmick. With his signature move being derived from such a common base, I think that it's important that KNEEL have a continuous presence, both in ring and on the mic. To that end, Athletics is used for various forms of grappling, so that was an easy proficiency to pick, and Intimidation is there because, "KNEEL is meant to be feared," is circled and underlined in my notes for this character.

Background: Noble felt right. Like, the ring could be a fake, the scroll could be a forgery, but at the end of the day, KNEEL is going to act like a king and I think people will treat him like one. Charisma is the spell casting ability for exercising force of will, after all.

Class: Why Paladin? Well, honestly because I confused the Channel Divinity feature for Oath of Conquest with the one for the Cleric's Order Domain, which strait up just knocks people prone. That had to be relegated to one of his spells(Thunderous Smite), but on the whole, "KNEEL is meant to be feared," is still circled and underlined in my notes, so his actual Channel Divinity works well. I also expect that he only ever uses Lay on Hands to heal himself or to keep someone from passing out as he forces them to... you know... KNEEL.  
  
Spells: Thaumaturgy is not particularly useful in combat, but can really make an impression. You can make your voice loud as hell, slam doors, light or extinguish fires, fun stuff for the imaginative, and the nice thing about Cantrips is that you can keep using them. Command is a very good spell for him, as it lets you issue a one-word command (and guess which one he's likely to be issuing?) the people are compelled to follow. In terms of him being a wrestler, I think Compelled Duel would be very fun in a tag-team match, since you could lay it on someone and then tag out. You can't be attacked because you aren't the legal man, and therefor your victim has to make all their attacks against your partner with disadvantage. A+ Heel move there.


	2. KNEEL vs. Sydreal Constellation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Main Event: KNEEL vs. Sydreal Constellation
> 
> The Title is on the line. Let's roll.
> 
> Narration will be left-aligned.  
> D&D actions and mechanics will be right-aligned and italicized.

William Regal was of course annoyed that KNEEL had planted his throne directly on top of the commentator's table, but then again, game recognizes game. He had seen a far few villains come and go over the years, many with any number of angles and gimmicks, each one about as dull as the last, but KNEEL was showing real promise. There had been many who claimed some sort of aristocratic lineage as a means of grabbing attention, William himself among them, but no one had approached the pretense in quite the same way KNEEL had. Usually, the game was to keep reminding people you were a Lord or a Duke or some such until they just sort of accepted it. KNEEL skipped that part and came in acting as though he were actually a King, as if there was any title that was worth a damn in the Empire of McMahon, as though he had some position or privilege that wasn't on the cusp of being snatched away, leaving him sprawled across the floor, as though the rocking chair he had salvaged from whatever dank corner Brey's boys had left it and crudely painted black had been upturned by a massive fist made of earth, conjured to gently remind him that he was IN THE COCKING WAY.

'Steady on, old man,' William said to himself. His position, while secure in many other respects, was also subject to the whims of the Emperor, and by extension, Authority Rhodes. Rhodes decided who was ready to become grist for The Empire's bloody mill. William Regal made the people fall in love with the grain. And the people loved KNEEL, or at least loved to hate him. From where William was sitting, peering around KNEEL's infernal chair, that amounted to the same thing.

"Tony, what did I tell you about interrupting me when I'm speaking," Regal said, breaking the small silence as the stage was set for the next match.

"What? I didn't-"

"Oh, _**Tony**_ ," Regal said, interrupting Tony Dawson off, weaving a muddling enchantment into the Name, insinuating it in just the way only he knew. Tony's expression blanked and he blinked several times. William Regal smiled, the annoyance receding for the moment. He liked ol' Tony. Good kid, hard worker, painfully bland. Just what you wanted in an Other Commentator.

"The following contest is scheduled for One Fall," The Voice intoned. Nobody knew precisely why, but similar to the ghostly apparition wearing the black-and-white striped tunic who hovered around the field of battle, gesticulating wildly but never touching the combatants, it was accepted as the done thing. Without the incantation and the specter, they might as well have been brawling in the street like common thugs. The words and the ghost made things official, reliable, true. Them and the bell were what separated this refined sport from common savagery. "Your reigning Champion," The Voice continued, "defending his title: KNEEL."

The sound the crowd made could best be described as 'gleeful jeers.' Regal smiled. He had done his work well. KNEEL himself sat imperiously atop his throne, atop the commentator's table, exactly where he had sat every night for the last two weeks. He did not dane to respond, the only move he made was look ever so slightly away, subtly proclaiming that he thought so little of his competition it was not eve worth the trouble to see them come in.

But they came in anyway. Their entrance music was cascading and melodic, plucked on some sort of rustic instrument traveled half way around the world and played by a stranger. They were lean and not quite tall, white trousers tight to their skin, a swirling motif of ivy and hempen thread wrapped around them, looking to sway in the breeze as the wearer walked. Their upper half was bare but for a broad, white ribbon covering their chest, hiding their nipples from view, the very center emblazoned with the culmination of the creeper and twine pattern adorning their pants, but here woven into a blazing sun, smiling beneficently on all it greeted, evoking the lonesome knight seeking jolly cooperation, evoking the Once and Future King, evoking gods of all creeds and all lands who gave life, chasing away the chill of winter and the dark of night. Their hair stood nearly on end, riding like a halo and shimmering in opalescent swirls of purple and green. "Your challenger," spake The Voice, as music swelled and the new combatant strode with purpose but not with haste to the top of the ramp, turned and stood firm, letting themself be seen, "The Fairest Sun, a Hope-punk Hero, Sydreal Constellation."

All the crowd cheered. A small portion of the crowd positively roared. Regal leaned back in his chair. He had foreseen this one's coming, but only just. They had gained some measure of small renown, this Syd, forging a partnership between a middling-large village and a knot of bullywugs, and doing so in no small part by putting the heads of both the human lord and frog-folk's chief on a pike. It would like as not take some work to destabilize that corner of the realm again. William had met Syd shortly before the challenge had been announced, had actually proposed the campaign of leaflets that had been disseminated. The worlds had been Syd's, though. 'I will not be made to KNEEL.' Kneel in all caps, of course. Very clever. There was something about them, though. Something Regal couldn't quite put a finger on. The kid's name, for one; their True Name that is. It still eluded him. A small matter, to be dealt with later. For now, he had a battle to commentate. Or would soon. Sydreal was still at the top of the ramp, staring across the wide space, eyes locked on KNEEL. KNEEL atop his throne, atop the commentator's table, very pointedly not now looking in his challenger's direction. The crowd began to quiet.  
  
"You don't deserve that," Syd said, their clear voice cutting the final murmurs of the assembled to nothing.

At that, KNEEL finally did look. His head turned slowly, quizzically, his hands gently shifting aside his obsidian sledgehammer so he could pick up his title belt. He lifted the belt half way, the cock of his eyebrow accentuated by a change in the slant of one horn.

Sydreal shook their head. "No, not that. You challenged, you won that challenge, and they gave you a thing of gold and iron and leather. I don't mean the belt, or the title they assign to it. And I don't mean your chair, either. That was rightfully abandoned by people moving on to greater things, and you have rightfully claimed it. You must be so proud of the both of them." Syd paused. A few members of the audience snickered, though they sounded more confused than amused. "I bare no ill will towards you for claiming what others have left behind. You are free to all that... junk."

That last put a decided chill in the air. The kid knew how to put some words together, Regal thought, but they were starting to run a bit too close to tipping this back on themself, to insulting things the crowd liked and losing the good will the flashy entrance had gained. If they didn't get to bloodletting soon, the whole moment would be spoiled.

"No, what you don't deserve is that place. What you don't deserve is to position yourself in a high place, to sit here night after night as poorer folx lay their bodies on the line for your amusement and you look on like some sort of paternal gargoyle, tacitly assuring these good people that it is by your grace that they prove themselves." Syd began striding towards the ring, their words coming faster now, "You don't deserve the unquestioned privilege to come, win a few scraps, and be lauded as the greatest." They reached the side of the ring, stepped onto the apron in one impossibly long stride, panted their next onto the second rope, and smoothly vaulted into the ring. "You don't deserve to come here and demand supplication, simply because you are big and strong and make claims to some dusty crown or far-off land, and most of all," Sydreal stopped directly in the center of the ring, squarely facing their foe, "you have no right to block Misters Regal and Dawson's view. You are a domineering cad, and all the things you love are pretense and rot. I have said it before and will say it again," their eyes blazed as though they contained the sun itself, "I will not be made to KNEEL."

_Syd rolled a Charisma(Performance) check, total of 13_

The crowd cheered. This was good, Regal thought. Syd had managed to bring it back around, focus in on why KNEEL was odious and not slag off on the thing the people liked. Could use some work, but there was time for that. A good rabble-rouser could be made of this kid yet.

"Peh." The exhalation echoed through the arena, magically amplified by some twist of Infernal influence. KNEEL glared at Sydreal from under his heavy, horned brow. "You will not kneel?" He set his belt to one side and grasped his maul. "We shall see." As though propelled by a rocket, KNEEL surged from his throne and very nearly flew to the ring. As he cleared the top rope, a bell dinged from somewhere and the fight had begun.

_Initiative rolls  
KNEEL: 8  
Syd: 6_

KNEEL closed the distance between them in three strides, whispering Infernal incantations as he readied his grip on his maul. Fell flames oozed from the joints of his gauntlets and covered the weapon in a sickly unlight.

_KNEEL uses Legacy of Avernus to cast Searing Smite at 2nd level.  
_ _KNEEL makes an Attack with his Maul, total of 15. Hits.  
_ _Sydreal takes 10 bludgeoning and 7 fire damage._

Sydreal braced for impact, ready to absorb the blow, but was caught off guard by the force of KNEEL's swing. He reeled, off balance, as hellfire leapt from the hammer and swarmed across their chest.

_Sydreal makes a Constitution Save against Searing Smite, total 6. Fails.  
_ _Sydreal takes 6 fire damage._

Syd shuddered the dark fire seared their flesh, attempting to regain balance, fighting through the pain. After an eternal second, skin still burning with unholy fire but eyes burning all the brighter with holy zeal, Sydreal drew their swords and attacked.

_Sydreal enters a Rage as a Bonus Action.  
_ _Sydreal makes an Attack with their Short Sword (using Dexterity), total of 18. Hits.  
_ _KNEEL takes 6 piercing and 4 radiant damage  
_ _KNEEL makes a Concentration save, total of 4. Fails._

Syd's returning blow was swift and sure, striking in the opportunity created as KNEEL followed through on his swing, slashing into the gap that opened between KNEEL's chainmail shirt and grieves, passing clean through the quilted jerkin beneath and drawing blood. KNEEL stepped back to avoid a second blow. "You will regret that," he hissed.

"Drawing the blood of a tyrant?" Syd spat back, the flames finally dying away, "No, never."

KNEEL growled, forming his fury and pride into an incantation. Water vapor began to sublimate off him as his armor chilled through the padding underneath. This child would, if nothing else, regret doing it again.

_KNEEL casts Armor of Agathys at 1st level. He gains 5 temporary hit points._ _  
_ _Sydreal rolls an Intelligence (Religion) check to see if they recognize the spell, total of 19. Succeeds._

Syd nearly pressed their attack, but held back. There was something off. They knew that spell. In their current frenzy, they could already feel the pain of the hammer blow beginning to ebb, but the dissipating flames still hurt keenly. If they touched KNEEL now, they would be in real trouble. Instead of moving in, they dropped one sword point-first into the mat and pulled a javelin from the bundle on their back. In a smooth motion, they threw the spear across the ring.

_Sydreal makes an Attack with a_ _Javelin, total of 20. Hits.  
_ _Kneel takes 6 piercing and 7 radiant damage.  
_ _Armor of Agathys ends._

Stooping only for a moment to scoop up their second sword, Sydreal closed on his foe and they met in a clash of steel. As Sydreal swung their blades, KNEEL caught them on his maul's shaft or deflected them harmlessly off his armor. Their weapons tangled and they were locked, face to face and eye to eye, each one pressing the other, waiting for the other to falter.

KNEEL spoke first, "Kneel before me, child. Save yourself this suffering."

Sydreal gritted his teeth, the hammer's iron shaft grating against his blades. "I am not afraid of you," they said.

"No?" a snarling grin spread across KNEEL's face as his gauntlets again began to glow with hellfire's unlight "You should be."

_KNEEL uses Channel Divinity: Conquering Presence._ _  
_

Regal had seen this before. While his victim was petrified by unholy terror of KNEEL's presence, KNEEL would simply press this contest of strength, looming larger and larger over Sydreal, forcing them to their knees. From there... Regal looked at the kid's condition. From there, one blow, maybe two, and they'd have a devil of a time getting the blood cleaned out of the mat. Shame, really. That trick with the javelin had been real smart; Syd had shown some real tenacity, but KNEEL was just too much for them. William Regal craned his neck around KNEEL's blasted chair to get a clearer look at Sydreal's eyes. That righteous fire was still there, but not for long. Soon, fear would creep in and extinguish those flames. They would all go home and come back again tomorrow night. He and Tony would again crane their necks around KNEEL's chair so they could watch some other poor sod get beaten to death, life would go on as normal. Any second now.

_Sydreal makes a Wisdom saving throw, total of 15. Succeeds.  
_ _Sydreal and KNEEL make opposed Strength(Athletics) checks. Because they are raging, Sydreal rolls with Advantage.  
_ _Sydreal drops a roll of 5 total roll of 18. KNEEL rolls a total of 20. Sydreal will act with Disadvantage on their next turn._

Syd felt the fear edging in, emanating from their foe's cursed gloves. They fought the fear off, but with a great effort. When their focus came back, they could feel it: KNEEL was winning. He was pressing them down. He was stronger. Syd's knees began to buckle. Was this it, then? was this as far as their road was going to go? Syd didn't have much in them, but by the looks of things, neither did KNEEL. 'Welp,' Syd thought, 'Guess this is it. All or nothing.' Acting with sudden and callus disregard for the hammer pressing towards their skull, Syd let go of their lock on KNEEL's weapon and flailed at the half-devil's face.

_Sydreal uses Reckless Attack to negate the Disadvantage on their attacks.  
_ _Sydreal uses both their Action and Bonus action to make Attacks using their Short Swords(using Strength), for a total of 13 and 15. Both miss._

_KNEEL makes an Attack with Advantage due to Sydreal's Reckless Attack using his Maul, dropping a roll of 14 for a total of 20. Hits._   
_KNEEL deals 14 bludgeoning damage and uses Divine Smite to expend a 1st level spell slot and deal 13 radiant damage.  
Sydreal resists both kinds of damage, taking 7 bludgeoning and 7 radiant damage.  
  
_ _Sydreal falls unconscious._

In a flash of sickening brilliance, KNEEL's maul smashed into Syd's face, and the Fairest Sun collapsed to the floor. Regal settled back into his chair. Sydreal had shown some real fight at the end there, a real desperate spark, but in the end, it hadn't mattered. Now it was over, and the rest was formality. The crowd cheered. KNEEL let his hammer drop to the floor and raised his fists in the air. Someone handed him the Title Belt and he held that aloft as well. Sydreal lay on the mat, bleeding.

_Sydreal makes a Death saving throw, total of 2. 1 failure._

As KNEEL turned slowly, holding aloft his Title belt, reminding everyone that he was indeed and yet their Champion, the crowed began a chant of, "Make them KNEEL." A nasty grin spread across KNEEL's face. His magically amplified voice rang through the arena.

"This child said they would not be made to kneel. Now that they have fallen, we see if they remain unwilling?" The crowd roared approval. KNEEL grabbed a fistful of Sydreal's opalescent mane and heaved them upright. KNEEL drove a fist into the unconscious Syd's stomach.

_Sydreal takes damage, resulting in a failed Death Saving Throw, total of 2  
_ _Kneel using Lay on Hands to restore 5 of Sydreal's Hit Points_

Sydreal's eyes fluttered opened as they found themself again eye-to-eye with KNEEL, who was still wearing his infernal, victorious grin. "Well then," KNEEL said, his voice booming through the arena, "do you still believe I cannot make you kneel?"

Syd didn't answer in words. They spat.

_Sydreal rolls for spit. Critical hit. Natural 20. First one of the fight. Sydreal gets a Surprise Round and KNEEL suffers Disadvantage on his Initiative Roll._

With a cry of surprise and disgust, KNEEL let go of Sydreal's hair and staggered back, trying to wipe the mingled blood and saliva from his eye without gouging himself on his spiked gauntlet. Sydreal stood grasping their swords, righteous fire again in their eyes. They were past talking. The radiant blaze grew, changing from metaphor to literal beams of light, emanating from their eyes and mouth and pores, bathing the ring in a consuming light.

_Sydreal enters a Rage as a Bonus Action.  
_ _Sydreal uses their action to activate Radiant Consumption.  
_ _KNEEL takes 2 radiant damage.  
_ _Sydreal resists the damage, taking 1 radiant damage._

_Initiative Rolls  
KNEEL: 2  
Sydreal: 10_

_Sydreal makes an Unarmed Strike, total of 12. Miss._

Sydreal leapt at KNEEL, battering at him in a flurry of limbs, screaming inarticulate rage. The blows battered against KNEEL's armor, none quite connecting with any vital place but keeping him on the back foot as Syd's aura of holy fury ate into KNEEL's dark eminence. KNEEL was forced back into the corner, step after step, Sydreal pushing him all the way into the turnbuckles, punctuating his blows with their now familiar curse: "I. Will. Not. Be. Made. To. Kneel."

_Sydreal's Radiant Consumption continues.  
_ _KNEEL takes 2 radiant damage.  
_ _Sydreal resists the damage, taking 1 radiant damage.  
_

_Sydreal has 3 hit points remaining.  
KNEEL has 1._

Just as Sydreal was about to land a surly-killing blow, the Striped Specter materialized, waving wildly, demanding that the combatants leave the corner. Sydreal faltered. KNEEL seized their opportunity.

KNEEL caught Sydreal's belated blow with his left hand. When Syd raised their other hand to strike, KNEEL caught that one with in his right. Pushing against the turnbuckle, KNEEL reversed their momentum, his weight pushing both of their bodies forward. He staggered forward as Syd staggered back, their equilibrium finally returning as they reached the center of the ring. The air in the arena had become electric, charged with KNEEL's Infernal proclamations, Sydreal's burst of purifying light, and the cheers and expectation of the crowd as the two battled for supremacy. Their hands were locked, their eyes crazed. Syd's face was broken and bloody. KNEEL's was slowly beginning to putrefy and stuff off. The hellish weaves of amplification again hummed as KNEEL's voice again boomed, above, below, and to all sides, "KNEEL BEFORE ME." KNEEL pressed.

_Sydreal and KNEEL make opposed Strength(Athletics) checks. Because they are raging, Sydreal rolls with Advantage.  
Sydreal drops a roll of 4 for a total of 12. KNEEL has a total of 15._

KNEEL was still stronger. Syd knew it. They felt it, their knees buckling as the taller, stronger man in heavy armor pressed down on them. But KNEEL was fading. The sores on his face had consumed a whole cheek and a few teeth were visible. The weight of one horn had pressed his brow down over one eye. Radiant Consumption was eating away at both of them, but it was eating KNEEL much faster. 'I'll survive,' Syd though. 'I'll still be alive and he'll be dead. I could just do it. I could suffer one indignity for the greater goal. All that really matters is that I'm going to win." Syd's knees again lurched and they sank down another inch. Didn't matter, really. They weren't going to have much choice. Sydreal closed their eyes, preparing to accept the inevitable.

There was a loud thwack, the sound of wood splintering against metal. The pressure suddenly lessened. Syd opened their eyes and looked about, seeing the scattered fragments of what had once been a white rocking chair, badly painted black, scattered around the ring. They looked at KNEEL, his slidingly disordered features suddenly blank and still. The downward force on Sydreal had lost changed, lost its driving will, had died. Syd stood upright. KNEEL stood upright with them. Syd shook free of the hand gripping their fists. KNEEL toppled backward, his body a catatonic rictus, arms outstretched, reaching upwards, grasping for a heaven that they, like their damned and fallen mother, would never reach.

Syd looked at the commentator's table. Tony Dawson looked muddled. William Regal looked away. The earthen hand protruding from the table gave them a wave and a thumbs up.

A bell dinged from somewhere and Sydreal blinked. The world crashed in on them in a roaring crowd. People swarmed the ring. Somewhere in the teaming mass of bodies, The Belt was put into their hands, and their hands were raised aloft, and the cheering redoubled. They had done it, they had won. They managed in the milling, singing, shouting confusion to pass The Belt off to a small child perched on their parent's shoulders and began to stumble off through the crowd, their hands being shaken and their back patted from every direction at once.

Syd eventually pushed their way through the curtain to the back of stage. They nearly collapsed against a wooden beam and took a steadying breath. They had done it. They had won.

"You've lost the belt." The broad Lancashire accent was different from the one the broader population knew, but all the same, the voice was unforgettable.

"Gave it away, Mr. Regal." Sydreal stood took a deep breath and stood. "I don't want it."

"Had me fooled, seeing how hard you just fought for it," said William Regal, emerging from the shadows.

"Didn't do it for the belt. I just don't like bullies."

"Alright, you can cut the Captain America bollocks, you're taking the gimmick a bit too far."

"It's not a gimmick, but fine. I did it because it is different. Every Champion has a belt, now I'm the one who doesn't. Maybe if I can change what people think they can expect from a hero, I can change what they expect for themselves."

William Regal laughed. It was a long laugh, and not a kind one. "Well, whatever the reason, we'll soon have it back, and you'll wear it to your next one."

"What, so someone else can beat me and then they wear it until someone takes it off them?"

"That's how it usually goes."

"What a wonderful world."

"What a world indeed." Regal adjusted his magnificent robe and turned to go. "Now rest up. Those challengers will be here sooner than you think."

"Mr. Regal, before you go-"

Regal stopped but didn't turn.

"Why?"

"Why what, Sydreal?"

"Why help? Why me?"

"Because I was sick of that bloody chair."


	3. Do Not Let My Fickle Flesh Go to Waste

Gods and Kings are not  
Except for what we make them.  
Fight, for you have hope.

Sydreal Constellation  
The Fairest Sun, The Hopepunk Hero.

To say that Syd is not like us is to fail to imagine what we can be. It is said that they come with some Divine Purpose, or rather that they have been sent by some Divine Will, but to reduce their presence to an errand is to deny that they also chose to come. Life was fine for them, where they were, where there was always plenty and the worries of the world were far away, where there was no one to show you how lucky you were to be born how you are, but they left alway. Because they were called, but also because it was right. Because they were needed, and because they need to see, to do, to fight.

"Say something!" we cry to the stars.

"We burn," the stars say back, and that is all.

"Very well," says Syd, "I, too, will burn."

And they take up their swords.

And they imagine a better world.

And they fight.

Name: Much of Sydreal's iconography coalesced around celestial bodies kind of by accident. I have a pretty involved history with Mumford and Sons' first two albums, in no small part because I really enjoy the way they turn phrases. "Not With Haste" hit me pretty hard recently, in no small part because it feels like it is the end of a hard journey when everything is finally alright: "As we walked through fields of green / it was the fairest sun I'd ever seen. / And I was broke, I was on my knees. / You said yes when I said please." This is the core of Sydreal's character. They are here to help. Some struggles are so inside that you have to be broken down before you can even realize that help was ever an option. I think one of the real failings of Judeo-Christian teachings is that human effort is often taken away from the people that accomplish it and ascribed to God. This is why "Footprints in the Sand," is so much of a joke. Yes, sure, when things got rough "God" was carrying you, except "God" in this case is a million small things that helped you get through each moment, a thousand larger things that get you through each day, and a couple of fuck-off massive relationships - be they individuals or ideas or organizations - that helped you tie it all together, and people made every stage of that happen. At the end of the day, we are all that we have; we are what make up right now, and we are what is actually important. If what you're doing is serving anything other than improving human conditions, then you ought to rethink your priorities and maybe go fuck yourself.  
Sorry, got on a tangent there. Point is, social justice was always at the core of this character, and as I started working more in the space of the seeming contradiction between the Human and the Divine, Celestial Bodies, the literal, physical heavens and opposed to the metaphoric ones, became more and more important. Their name is derived from the world 'sidereal,' which is defined as, "of or with respect to distant stars," and I picked it because I learned about the word recently and I like it a lot. When I was picking a last name, I literally googled "Community words," and that was on a list, along with Congregation, Club, and a bunch of names of indigenous groups from all over the world. The allusions to Robert Frost's "Something Like a Star" came afterwords and I'm still kind of unpacking that.

Race: Aasimar are half-angels, basically the Celestial counterpart to Tieflings. I genuinely did not pick an Aasimar to dethrone a Tiefling on purpose. KNEEL was going to be a Dragonborn until I double checked my mater-list of options and it fit a little too good. I usually don't play this hard into type. In fact, looking back over my personal setting, Celestials are mostly assholes or rubes, Fiends tend to be fairly personable and alright to work with if it is mutually beneficial, and the biggest villains are a merchant company that runs a city. I'll try and make more interesting choices in the future, but I have also been on a pretty profound Aasimar kick recently, and this was an opportunity to be self-indulgent.

Ability Scores and Proficiencies: Real talk, Syd is not statted out to be a hyper-effective Barbarian. Also, I almost never use Intimidation personally, but for the purposes of this build, and for reasons I'm going to get into later, I think Sydreal compares and contrasts to me personally in some interesting ways, and I think part of that is Syd is not afraid to be scary, especially to the people they find contrary to their goals. I am not that kind of confrontational, putting more effort into attempting to build empathy with people who are probably not going to be real keen on empathizing with me, but hey, maybe it's alright to just scare people every once in a while. 

Background: Neither Acolyte not Folk Hero really fit for the character I was going with, so the background I cooked up was, "Big fish in a small pond," which I would be happy to hear more concise takes on. I come from a conservative, Catholic family from a town of about 10,000, and I went to a Catholic school from 2nd grade on. That is a very easy environment to stick out in, to be seen as extremely talented in. The best thing you can do in that situation is to leave, to find some place bigger, stranger, more diverse, just more different, in order to see a bit more broadly. It taught me that a lot of people have a lot of different problems, a lot of people have a lot of the same problems, we are better able to solve those problems if we work together. Also, Privilege. Like, you grow up buried under mountains of it, so deep you don't believe the sun is hot until you stick your head out. It isn't that people in those communities don't have problems, and it isn't necessarily always that those problems are more or less pressing than any others. I think there's something to understanding why those sorts of people live in fear that everything they love is going to be taken away and torn down. They are still just extremely wrong, but I'm just saying, I can see where they're coming from.

Class: Syd could have been any number of classes. Heroes come from everywhere if you look for them. As I continue to make characters for myself, I continue to find new things to love in them, new parts of me that need to be expressed. In my piece on Tyler Breeze, I cited the central move defining the Barbarian in Dungeon World: Herculean Appetites. By that formulation, what lies at the core of being a Barbarian, at drawing your strength from primal savagery, is want, is the lack that is your blessing and bane, the thing you desire more than life. As I reflected on who Sydreal is, what Sydreal need, this desire to inspire, the hunger for justice, the need to do something, to break something, to build something, to just something or face losing hope, that is the core of who Syd is. 


End file.
